Extreme::Kings X::Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp::Chicago

Some bands re-group after a long hiatus, and you just shrug. But then there are those outfits that went away before they’d given all they had to offer. Extreme was one of those bands, having gone on hiatus after Gary Cherone’s ‘promotion’ to Van Halen. The band had played a few one-off gigs together around their native Boston, but it wasn’t until last November that the word came out that Extreme was, indeed, re-forming to record and tour.
 
My interest in seeing these guys play live was only heightened when they announced that support for the “Take Us Alive” tour would come from none other than King’s X, one of my favorite  bands. The closest stop of the tour for me, at Chicago’s House of Blues, instantly became one of my must see concerts for the summer.
 
Rock’n’Roll Fantasy Camp
 
I was pretty stoked to hear that the concert was set to start at 6 PM, because even with an additional opener, I figured I might actually make it home, even with the 2.5 hour drive back, at a
relatively decent hour. I hadn’t counted on the bloated beast that was the Rock and Roll Fantasy camp. If the Simpsons are any guide, the point is to have patrons with a decent bit of spare change lying around shell out to learn a few musical tricks, and then get a chance to schmooze with an aging rock star. This camp had the added benefit that the customers would actually get to go up on stage and strut their stuff with the aforementioned aging rock star. Offhand, it sounded like the recipe for the stuff of high school talent shows, so I was pleasantly surprised to hear a decent rendition of a Judas Priest classic as I waited at Will Call for my tickets.

When Delana (my fiancée) and I got into the House of Blues, a former David Bowie sidekick, whose name I didn’t catch, was coming on stage with a 6 person band, with a slinky Edie Brickell wanna-be caressing the microphone stand through a couple of songs. This crew put on a decent version of the T Rex classic, “Bang a Gong,” before giving way to one time Guns and Roses member Gilby Clarke and his motley crew, doing the Beatles’ “Get Back.”

The next act, featuring former Cars’ axe man, Elliot Easton, was the most adventurous of the Fantasy Camp bands, and perhaps the best, belting out a credible rendition of Cream’s White Room. Musicianship aside, they also provided the highlight of the Fantasy Camp set, with an absolutely manic maraca shaker amusing highly with his herky jerky head motions. For a minute there, I thought the guy was going to go off into Will Ferrell cowbell territory. This group then took on “Get Back,” as well; that must have been the song that every camper had to nail
before they’d be allowed to graduate. Unlike the prior two acts, Easton’s crew threw in a third cut, rocking out those “Summertime Blues,” which was a portent of things to come.

By this time, we’d been in the venue for nearly an hour, what with 7 songs, two quick changeovers, and already, everybody but the fantasy campers’ families were wondering when the opening act would give way to the real show. So the emcee’s (who might have been Kip Winger, though I was never able to get confirmation) declaration of “a few more to go” was met with a couple of audible groans. The annoyance was compounded by the House of Blues’ utter lack of available seating. Despite the fact that seemingly half the venue’s space was wasted as bar front areas, there were only a few seats/stools available, and each of these had a “reserved for:” sign taped to them. It made for a long, painful night, leaning up against random surfaces, trying to give aching legs a break whenever possible.

It didn’t help that the three remaining Fantasy Camp acts represented a downhill arc from the Easton crew’s highwater mark. Mark Slaughter came out with three guys, and a music stand to hold his music. At one point, he made sure we knew that they’d only met up at 9 AM that morning, and had only had a few hours to rehearse. That still didn’t excuse the band from sounding more like what I’d expected, a high school talent show, sending out some rather atonal Rolling Stones vibes before catching themselves and getting into key. The guy on the Flying V had a
couple of nice solos, and this group nearly redeemed themselves with a rendition of Bad Company’s Feel Like making Love.” Unfortunately, though Slaughter was the vocalist for this group, he never unleashed any of his squirrel on helium vocals, not even a single, “Flyyyyy to the Aaaaangels.” I was highly disappointed.

Of all the aging rockers performing that night, I was most impressed with ex-Deep Purple/ex-Black Sabbath bassist Glenn Hughes. Beyond loving the sense of humor he displayed in playing “Smoke on the Water” (recorded before he was in Deep Purple, for what it’s worth), the guy just oozed rock star vibes, more so than any of the other pros that had gone on before him. He let an grown up Howdy Doody type take over lead vocals for a cover of “Folsom Prison Blues,” that  sounded just fine musically, but suffered from unconvincing vocals.

That said, the guy was far better than the vocalist for the last camper band. The last act, with the emcee participating, started out with Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls,” with 4 vocalists opening up the track very nicely. When they kicked into the song proper, we couldn’t hear the lead vocalist very well, as her vocals were buried in the mix. However, when we did get to hear her, we wished that she’d stayed buried, as the effect was, shall I say, less than pleasant. Her musicianship wasn’t much better, as the next song, Mountain’s “Mississippi Queen,” opened up with the huge guitarist shouting, “Let’s hear it for more cowbell!” prompting the female vocalist to start tapping out the opening to that song. As Delana remarked, if you’re going to go up on stage and play percussion, it’s usually better if you can actually keep time. The big guy saved the act, though, putting on a powerful vocal rendition of that all time classic song. And finally, the Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp portion of the show came, mercifully, to an end.

KING’S X

In between acts, I started talking with a couple of guys, Ken and Eli, who were there primarily to see King’s X. Ken, at least, was in my age bracket, and we remarked upon the slightly older composition of the crowd. As he put it, these folks were our tribe, a little bit past the usual rock and roll crowd, but still way into the music of our youth. That’s not to say it was all 30-somethings in the crowd, the younger crowd was well represented at the House of Blues, but the majority did seem to have been at least in high school when More Than Words originally came out.

In addition, there was a decent smattering of King’s X shirts, some ranging back all the way to the band’s initial offerings, in the crowd. I definitely knew how they felt, as I was much more a fan of King’s X than I’d been of Extreme back in the day.

We waited a good long while for the Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp equipment to get cleared off stage, and for King’s X to set up. At one point, the PA cut out for a soundcheck, but then resumed playing. Finally, the band came out, and launched into, “Groove Machine,” an appropriate opener given what they ended up playing this night. Bassist Doug Pinnick (nickname Dug) held court, as usual, on the left of the stage, pounding away at his left handed bass, with his hair trapped down into short blonde locks hanging over his forehead. His unbuttoned black shirt revealed a pair of dog tags hanging around his neck, as well as his ridiculously skinny physique. The guy is pushing 60, but probably could pass for half that age. Guitarist Ty Tybor manned stage right, looking dignified in a black tee shirt. By contrast, Jerry Gaskill was showing his age, wearing a red tank top as he bashed away on his drums, hairstyle pretty much unchanged from when they started playing together back in the 80s.

From the “Groove Machine,” they went into “Alright,” my favorite song from their excellent new CD, “XV,” and the first of five tracks they played that night. “Rocket Ship, the next song, also hails from, XV, but while it was well received, it had nothing on the reaction to the opening bars of, “Black Flag.” The cut featuring Dug’s first scream of the night – the guy can produce some amazing noises from his vocal chords, and they’ve been featured in the band’s music through their career. To see him produce his scream from as close as I was that night, that was a thrill. I’d only caught the band once before, in an amphitheater show, probably from further back than the House of Blues goes, in terms of distance from the stage. A couple of years ago, I was forced to pass on seeing the band in a small club, and I’m still regretting it. Catching them in a mid sized venue like the House of Blues went a ways towards healing that particular wound. I mean, it was an absolute thrill to see one of the best, and one of the most underrated bassists in rock (Pinnick) play live, as well as hearing the fantastic harmony vocals of Jerry Gaskill and Ty Tabor, and Tabor’s smooth guitar style, to boot.

They went back to the new disc to offer up a heavy, pounding version of “Move,” and you could feel Pinnick’s bass shaking the floors of the House of Blues. At some point, the guys running the video screen figured out that the band had, indeed, started playing, and the images of the band, captured from angles viewers on the floor weren’t privy to, started showing up in the corners of the stage. In between songs, Pinnick thanked the crowd, as he does often, and declared, “We come to wither your ball and make your titties bounce!” Smirking, he followed with, “It’s just a joke, please don’t be offended,” before saying that he never apologized for anything he said. An odd little moment, but all was forgiven a few seconds later, as they launched into the title track from their 1993 album, “Dogman.” It was on the strength of this disc that King’s X earned a spot at the 1994 edition of Woodstock, and it was the closest they’d come to really breaking through into the mainstream. Unfortunately, it never quite happened for them.

The last few songs, starting with, “Pray,” also fit solidly, as did their whole set list, into the heavy grooving aspect of King’s X’s music. While I was definitely digging every song they played, including, “We Were Born to Be Loved,” (often used by Paul Shaffer as bumper music on David Letterman’s show), I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed by the fact that they never once touched on the band’s more sensitive side, not playing a single track on which Ty Tabor sang lead. The band’s strength is in its versatility, in being able to play the heavy as hell grooves, as well as the sensitive, sweet, and tricky ballads, and the gut-wrenching introspective tracks so often voiced by Ty Tabor. I definitely understand an opening act tailoring a setlist to best match the audience the headliner attracts, but given the fact that Extreme’s two biggest hits (More than Words and Hole Hearted) were of the sweet ballad variety, I expected , and was disappoint to not hear songs like, “It’s Love,” or “The Difference,” or “Summerland,” or any song on which Tabor sings lead.

That said, you couldn’t help but get hyped up by “We Were Born to be Loved,” with the band showing off the tightness born of decades of playing together, grinning, and absolutely digging their instruments through the many stops and starts of the song’s outro. It was one of those experiences where you look up on stage, and you see the performers you’ve come to see having a good time up there, and the feeling is fantastic. They followed up with another new one, “Go Tell Somebody,” and “Looking for Love,” from their 1996 CD, “Ear Candy,” but the best was still to come.

The biggest cheer King’s X received that night was probably when they started in on “Over my Head,” a Pinnick penned track about his grandmother praying and singing when he was young. The chorus is catchy and has a way of drilling itself into a listener’s head, “Music, music, I hearmusic/Music, I hear music music/Music, oh oh oh, Lord/Music over my head.” Over the year, the second half of the song has featured Gaskill and Tabor playing along softly as Pinnick delivers a mini-rant, or mini-sermon of sorts. Lately, it’s been about not letting anyone question your taste in music, declaring that anything coming from the heart is good music. That got a hearty cheer, but still, the best was yet to come. As the song got near its ending, the band stopped playing entirely, and Dug just motioned for the crowd to keep singing the chorus lines, and then did it again. After a couple of repetitions, he himself stopped singing, but motioned for us to keep going. By this time, even people who hadn’t heard of King’s X before this night had figured out the lyrics, and joined in, and by the time the crowd got to the fifth iteration, the volume in the House of Blues was swelling, and the hairs on my arm were standing on end. They let us go on a couple more times before joining back in with us, concluding an amazingly emotional, amazingly uplifting moment.

The band went off stage then, and I figured it was over, but we were a lucky crowd, and I saw something I don’t think I’d ever witnessed before: an opening act coming back to take an encore. Later on that night, Nuno Bettencourt from Extreme said something about King’s X being one of his favorite bands of all time, and it made a bit more sense. King’s X didn’t disappoint, ripping off a ferocious version of “King,” from their debut album to close out their set. Pinnick said something about “first” and “Headbanger’s Ball,” but I didn’t catch whether it was the first King’s X video to make it on to MTV, or if it had any historical significance having to do with that show. I’d love to hear if any of you readers know anything about that. That said, all I knew was that I’d witnessed a great band rip off an amazing set, and I was wondering if Extreme could match up with that.

EXTREME

Turns out that I need not have worried. Extreme came out and just rocked the crowd, which started cheering from when instrumental bits from “III Sides to Every Story” heralded the imminent beginning of the show, through the last bars of “It’s a Monster.” In a way, King’s X put on a solid rock concert, but Extreme put on a SHOW.

The band came out, as mentioned, to the strains of “Who Cares?”, with Gary Cherone sporting a black btton-down shirt, and a ridiculous pair of shades with what looked for all the world like a pair of band aids forming an “X” over one of the lenses. Nuno Bettencourt opted for a tan vest, the better to show off his arms, to go along with a pair of tight, lightly plaid brown pants. A native charm around his neck completed the ensemble. My favorite outfit among the band belonged to Pat Badger, the bassist, who just looked rock and roll cool in his brown leather jacket and shades resting just under a retro fro. His t-shirt sported a face that I kept staring at all night, trying to decide if it was James Dean or a very young Ronald Reagan. Perhaps in direct competition to Badger, new drummer Kevin Figueiredo (K-Fig) sported a very modern fro, complete with giant sideburns.

The band started out with a new track, Comfortably Dumb. Given the fact that the album didn’t come out officially until three days after the show (although, they had CDs on sale that night), I wondered how much the crowd would know about the new material. What they lacked in familiarity, though, they made up in enthusiasm, with the 40 year old ladies in the side balconies cheering as hard as the kids in the front row. Stepping back to the Pornografitti album, Extreme then brought on their set’s first huge roar with Decadence Dance. There was a big guy just in front of our position on the stairs next to the sound board (who was taller than I was, even though I was a step up), who was doing his own little decadent dance to that song. That guy was a source of entertainment the whole set through, what with his unbridled enthusiasm giving rise to a plethora of fist pumps and head bangs/bobs. His close cropped hair somewhat matched Cherone’s shirt, blonde hair, something that shocked Delana, who was still expecting the flowing long black hair Cherone sported back in the days of “More Than Words” and the “Hole Hearted” videos.

“Rest in Peace” was next, and ended with Nuno showing off his guns, and his symbol, tattoed on his arm, and plastered over his gear. The Queen-inspired “Star,” came afterwards, with the band going after those strident three part harmonies with gusto. Somewhere before the end of the song, Nuno managed to lose his vest. Frankly, I was surprised it had taken him that long to get naked, and I spent about few seconds trying to decide whether he or Doug Pinnick was more ripped. I figure it’s a tie, with the edge doing to Pinnick because he’s older.

A little instrumental intro, punctuated by tripartite red ground lights bathing the payers on stage, preceded the night’s only full band entry from the “Waiting for the Punchline” album, “Tell Me Something I Don’t Already Know.” That gave way to a medley from Extreme’s first, self-titled album, preceded by Gary thanking the fans who’d been with them from the start.

I said at the start that Extreme put on a SHOW, and I meant it. That was manifested in Bettencourt’s guitar heroics, of course, but the main impetus was Cherone himself, playing the role of a manic, over-the-top frontman to the max. At some point of the show, Nuno called him the best front man in rock. I think Delana might disagree, as she estimated that Cherone probably spent 30% of the show shaking his ass at the crowd (the percentage gets higher with every recounting of the concert). It didn’t bother me any, as I was eating that stuff up, along with the rest of the crowd. That said, I couldn’t help but laughing, as Delana absolutely cracked up next to me, when during “Play With Me,” Cherone flopped on his back on K-Fig’s drum riser, threw his legs over his head (yes, exposing his ass to the crowd again), and then looked out at the crowd from between his upraised legs.

The band returned to the present with a funky new track, led by Pat Badger digging the hell out of his bass on “Slide.” Thereafter, the noise level got turned down a notch or two, but certainly, not the intensity of the show. The lights went down and came up to reveal Nuno sitting on a chair with an acoustic guitar. Before playing, he gave a nod to their hand picked openers, saying “Give it up for King’s X. One of my favorite bands of all time. God Bless them. Thank God they’re here. This goes out to them…this is Doug’s favorite vocal,” as he launched into the instrumental “Midnight Express.” This cut smokes on CD; it’s even more amazing live, watching Nuno get after his instrument. There’s a close up video of this track from a different stop up on youtube, and I’d highly recommend you go check it out.

Next came the song that everyone was waiting for, “More Than Words.” Gary joined Nuno in the spotlight, and the pair recreated their biggest hit for an adoring crown loudly singing along, not all of them necessarily in tune with the performers. Gary played to the crowd, letting us harmonize with Nuno on occasion, both of them stopping to let the crowd vocals wash over them. Near the end of the song, the two guys looked at each other, cracked a grin, and reached over and fist bumped one another, just a really cool moment to witness. It was as if you could feel them really enjoying each other’s company, playing together on tour for the first time in a dozen years or so. Nuno then relinquished his guitar for a turn at the keyboard (piano?) to lead the band through the poignant new track, “Ghost.”

Returning to “III Sides to Every Story,” one of my favorite albums ever, Extreme dusted off “Cupid’s Dead” for the audience. Before the track really got going, with Nuno somewhere off-stage, Cherone and K-Fig indulged in a bit of musical malarkey. Cherone matched it with some wardrobe shenanigans halfway through the song, when he returned from the instrumental break wearing a piratical doo-rag. It really didn’t make much sense, especially in light of the next song, the good old fashioned hoe down of the new song, “Take Us Alive,” which also provided the name of the tour. At one point, Cherone stuck his microphone down the front of his pants and shimmied to the crowd with a dirty grin on his face. There was another weird musical moment, I think at the start of the song, where you could hear a bassline going, but it really didn’t look like Pat Badger was playing quite yet. That was offset by a choreographed freeze frame moment, where all 4 guys went stock still on stage….except for Nuno, still working his gum furiously, in a highly amusing moment.

Extreme returned to their funkified roots with “Get the Funk Out,” which excited the overgrown boy scout ahead of us to no end; he regaled us with his most enthusiastic show of enthusiasm (and yes, I just repeated myself, but this guy really was that happy to hear this song) since “Rest in Peace,” early on in the show. Cherone rewarded him with a little charades, illustrating the “the exit is right here,” line by wiping his ass for the crowd.

That was it for the main body of the show, but they were coming back out for more, and everyone knew it, not least because they had yet to play their second biggest hit, “Hole Hearted.” When they did return, though,it was my turn to get really excited, as they hit the stage again with my favorite Extreme song, “Am I Ever Gonna Change.” “Hole Hearted” did come next, as expected; there probably would have been a middle-aged riot had they tried to leave without playing that song. Afterwards, the band started coming together as if for a group bow, but instead, they went into a band huddle of sorts. When it broke, Gary and Nuno took a mock straw poll of the crowd to determine the final song of the evening. They took turns running through the candidates, with someone in the crowd shouting out the obligatory “Freebird!” “Tragicomic,” a song both Delana and I love, was mentioned, and Badger even hit the first few notes of that fantastic song, but unfortunately, Nuno vetoed it claiming he didn’t remember how it went. After rejecting a few Led Zeppelin suggestions, the band finally landed on where it was headed all along, and closed out the night with a rousing rendition of, “It’s a Monster.”

All in all, a fantastic night of rock and roll, the kind of show where you walk out exhausted, even though you just stood there all night; granted, it was 6 hours of standing around, but it was certainly worth it to be able to see a still vital King’s X, as well as witnessing the return of Extreme. Cherone was over the top, but in my book, in a good way, Pat Badger was rock and roll cool, and Nuno, well, the man is a guitar god, and it was great to be able to finally see him and Extreme live in concert.